Was it the echoes of bullets from decades ago on the streets of LA, Selma or Montgomery? Have they traveled so far? Have they pierced the veils of time to hunt us in the present? Bringing strips of cotton stained with blood and woven back together to create a new shroud. Those bullets passed through your stores, your children, your leaders Ricocheted off your disco balls marred the brick of your houses and found you even while protected and protecting. These bullets indiscriminately perforating black and brown bodies leaving a trail of broken hearts, dashed dreams for the future, plastic toys littered through time From what fire was this metal forged? Whose hands reach through the flame now, and What do they seek? Justice? Revenge? Power? To catch a bullet is a tricky thing. Your body may be left in the streets and incite riots or the metal may simply pass through you and into the next dark body. If the metal lingers in the minds of the people Your body
A place to lay my thoughts through art and word